Blue Fire

The fire was lit; the pen was ablaze over the paper
It burnt and smoked,
It was spiteful and venomous;
It was the most powerful fire in the world:
It was the blue fire.

And these are the scorch marks that it left.

When recklessness and desperation ensnares your heart,
Noise amidst the silence screams to you,
And alienates you from the rest;
A need to explain the reason for your solitude
But unable to put up to test.
Anger at nothing and anger at that;
Anger at everything that seems so bad.

A reckless desire to prove yourself,
Then the realization that you have failed yourself.
No one notices your lonely soul;
The loner amidst the crowd.
A cliche that is more often true,
In this urban jungle of now.

There is a burning desire to break free;
And fly away someplace somewhere, somehow.

As the soul weeps its silent tears,
In the graveyard of dead souls:
The prayer had long died on its lips;
Nothing but remorse followed.

Is this your strory? 
But I seem to be telling mine.
Not a story worth telling, I agree,
Not a story worthy of your precious time.

This is not a story at all;
But my feelings embered in words withal.

For me life is the phase before death,
A happy phase for some and something else for the rest.
For every moment of it heralds the future news
And every second of it is a search for yourself in you...................................